Prelude to Catharsis
by Lost Experiment
Summary: It’s said that people are defined by the choices they make. But if you’re not really a person, then do your choices matter? Demyx reflects on some of his choices.


**Title:** Prelude to Catharsis

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** It's not terribly spoiler-y, it's not terribly violent, it makes a hell of a lot more sense if you know what happens to Demyx after it, although it's not explicitly stated here.

**Disclaimer**: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square Enix and Disney.

**Summary:** It's said that people are defined by the choices they make. But if you're not really a person, then do your choices matter? Demyx reflects on some of his choices; how might they prompt his pre-battle conversation with Sora?

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**Prelude To Catharsis**

Demyx stopped in the hallway, doubling back a few paces as a glitter of movement caught his eye. Unconcerned about the Hollow Bastion restoration crew, he summoned a few of his dancer nobodies to stand guard while he turned to face what had turned out to be a fallen mirror, stooping curiously to catch a glimpse of his own face reflected, distorted in the spider-webbed cracks.

He ran a hand thoughtfully through his hair, rooched back from his scalp and secured into a spiky half-Mohawk in the back. He touched his chin, and balanced on one hand to rub his black-clad shoulder, and knee. The fingers twitched in brief visits to the ears, around his neck and across his belly. All _outwardly_ normal. He tried a smile, and predictably his reflection grinned good-naturedly back. Any way he looked at himself, he saw a human man. But that wasn't exactly right.

Sitting back on his heels, Demyx's expression slid into a frown. The reflection caught in the fissures as he moved away, distorting his face still further.

He was under fire from the Organization constantly for being 'happy', or even 'cheerful'. Words in the shape of positive emotions spit at him like insults. For being 'soft', 'weak', 'not good enough'. The insults in whispers gentler than a breeze. Some of the time, he believed it.

Most of the others had determined that the worlds saw their state was something to hate and fear. Each was only too ready to find a kernel of injustice in that perception, and build it up in a parody of anger, striving to solidify their existence through the act of taking that anger out on those who shunned them. Anger was an emotion, they reasoned, realizing too late that it was also a self-fulfilling prophecy. Violent, destructive anger was too often described as _heartless_, but it never deterred a Nobody on the warpath. Try wandering in to get your work done without causing mayhem, and there was Demyx; practically handed an instruction manual with a side order of dirty look and never mind that the world he went to didn't decide to keep one of his eyeballs or a chunk of three of his hide. But what difference did it make if the choices he'd made in life; what could be called life when you were only two thirds a person, was able to get him through one day to the next as easily as rage or violence?

Really, it was all just pretending anyway. Emotions required stuff like blood and a heart to pump that blood faster or slower, depending on how you felt. Demyx's hand was nearly always cold. Sometimes, when doing those things that made him happiest (and of course, the term was relative), like playing his Sitar, the flesh seemed to warm somewhat, like sun on a rock. Sometimes, although he would never admit it to the rest of the organization, he liked to think about what he must have been like when he was a whole person. Somebody. He liked to think he'd been happy then too. Or, maybe that was to say that he'd been happy then, period.

Demyx didn't have to be told his smile was empty, that his words meant precious little when they reflected emotion. But then, didn't that mean that the anger and self-righteousness of his colleagues was just as meaningless?

Why be happy?

Why wasn't he allowed to be happy?

Why should anyone else be allowed to be happy?

Unfortunately, when you didn't have a heart, it was easy to get what you were pretending to be confused with something else entirely.

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**Author's Notes:**

I…don't have much to say. Unfortunately this is likely NOT going to be the beginning of a regular return to writing, as I also have school on top of work to contend with now.

Otherwise, hope it was enjoyed, and have at it in terms of crit and reviews and praise and all that other fun stuff.


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